


sigh no more

by WeeBeastie



Series: after all verse [12]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Sweetness, I can't say anything else because I don't want to give it away, M/M, old pirate husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/pseuds/WeeBeastie
Summary: love, it will not betray youdismay or enslave you, it will set you freebe more like the man you were made to beoh, man is a giddy thing





	sigh no more

They're sitting down to tea and breakfast one morning when Silver springs the idea on Flint.

“You know what I've been thinking about?” he asks, setting Flint’s tea in front of him and then making himself comfortable in the chair opposite with his own tea, strong and black like always.

“What?” Flint replies, glancing up from the book he's been rereading lately. He knows Silver would just keep talking even if he didn't respond, but he likes to humor him.

“You and I, we - privately, of course - refer to ourselves as each other's husbands. You wear my ring. I've started to talk about my marriage to Madi as my first marriage, implying a second,” he says, then pauses for a long moment, looking away. Finally he meets Flint’s eyes and continues. “But we haven't had any kind of...ceremony. A wedding, I suppose. I know it would be a bad idea, putting it mildly, to have some big to-do and invite all the neighbors. Obviously we won't do that. But.”

“But you'd like for us to do something just for ourselves, alone. Put on our best clothes, exchange a few words, perhaps have a cake and some wine,” Flint says with an indulgent smile. “I can't say the idea hasn't crossed my mind as well,” he admits.

“Did you and Thomas ever...? Forgive me if I've gone too far asking that,” Silver says, looking a little nervous the way he always does when he brings Thomas up. It's endearing and a touch sad, to Flint - he so wishes they could've met.

“We said a few words to each other one night in Providence, which is where we stayed for a short while after escaping the labor camp - burning it to cinders, actually - and fleeing Savannah,” Flint says, stroking his white beard idly as he remembers. He can see the night still, vividly, in his mind. “We had been arguing over something trivial, and I said we sounded like an old married couple. The idea amused both of us so much that we had our own little ceremony in our home that night, just the two of us. No cake, no wine, not even any rings, since we were on the run and didn't have much in the way of worldly possessions yet,” he says with a fond sigh. “Just us declaring our love for each other, to have and to hold and so on. It was a bit cheeky, almost. Nothing too dour or serious, we were just...finding romance wherever we could. Celebrating being together again.” He can still see Thomas in his mind’s eye, worn clothing, scruffy beard and all, holding his hands and beaming while he pledges to be his forever. He shakes his head, snapping himself out of his reverie. “That was my overly complicated way of saying yes, Thomas and I were married, after a fashion.”

“Would you even want to marry me, then? I mean, we are both old men, and we've each been married once before already. Besides, we have a house and a farm and a dog; surely all that is enough proof of our intent to remain together until death us depart, wedding or no,” Silver says, picking at his breakfast.

“Of course I would. I told you when you gave me this ring, if it was a proposal then I accepted it as such. We're betrothed, if you ask me, and have been for long enough. It's high time we got married,” Flint says, and he catches a glimpse of the huge smile on Silver’s face just before he ducks his head to hide it.

“Well, good, then. It's settled. Today is what, Friday? What say we get married tomorrow, on Saturday?” Silver reaches out to take Flint’s left hand in both his own, rubbing one thumb affectionately over the ring on Flint’s fourth finger. “Does that suit you, my lovely bride?” he teases him.

“Do not start,” Flint says warningly, pretending to be more irritated than he is. “I am not your bride, and I won't be your wife, either. I'll marry you, but I'll be your husband,” he says with conviction.

“And I'll be yours, too. Husbands, plural...I think I like it,” Silver says, leaning across the table to steal a kiss from Flint. “Old husbands,” he amends with a laugh as he sits back in his chair.

Flint nods, thinking. “Will you make a pie, instead of a cake? You know how much I like--”

“Peach pie, yes. I will. The peaches on the tree closest to the house looked almost ripe yesterday, so they should be perfect by tomorrow,” Silver says, then smiles at Flint in a way that makes his heart beat faster. “Our wedding day.”

“Our wedding day,” Flint echoes, smiling back at Silver. “I do like hearing you say that.”

“I like saying it,” Silver says, looking almost bashful for a moment. “We have a lot to do in between now and then to prepare, though,” he says, glancing pointedly at Junior where he's sitting nearby, waiting patiently for table scraps. “Our large witness there needs a bath, for a start.”

Junior makes a doubtful ‘rrrr’ noise, and pins his ears back against his head.

“I’ve told you before, you can't just go saying _b-a-t-h_ around him. He knows that word and he doesn't care for it,” Flint says. “Now he knows what we're planning.”

“Well, he's getting one whether he wants it or not. It's an important event and he needs to look his best,” Silver says, standing up from the table with a quiet grunt of effort and clearing away the dishes, slipping Junior the remnants of a piece of bacon like he thinks Flint won't see.

“I’m going to work outside for the morning. We'll reconvene later to give the witness his b-- well, you know,” Flint says, standing up and finding his shoes so he can go outside and tend to the farm. “It’s going to take both of us to corral him, I think.”

“Yes, regrettably our son hates large and large-ish bodies of water, like his daddy before him and my father before me,” Silver mutters as he cleans up from breakfast, his back turned so that he misses the curious expression Flint can feel on his own face. Silver so rarely offers up anything about his past, even a little tidbit like that is interesting.

“I’ll find you later,” Flint says. He goes over to Silver and kisses his cheek gently, then puts on his shoes and goes out the back door of the kitchen to get his chores done.

 

\---

 

Flint regards the big wooden tub half-full of lukewarm water and lavender-scented soap bubbles, and sighs. He knows from experience that this isn't going to go well, but it has to be done. He's sent Silver downstairs to fetch Junior, and has gotten the bath ready for the dog on his own. He's shirtless, as he knows Silver will be too, since they've discovered over the course of Junior’s life that bathing him while fully clothed results in soaked shirts at the very least. At worst, they'll end up dripping wet and Junior will be long gone, most likely outside rolling in filth because somehow he's inherited Flint’s penchant for revenge. 

It's taking Silver longer than it should to fetch the dog, which does not bode well for the success of this endeavor.

“Come on. Come on now, son! Nothing untoward is happening up here. No reason to be frightened. Help Daddy, hey? You can't struggle so, not with me, not while we're on the stairs. It isn't safe. There's a good boy,” Flint hears Silver saying from the staircase, and then the hallway.

A few moments later Silver appears in the doorway with a chagrined-looking Junior. The dog has his head hanging down and his tail tucked between his back legs, looking like he knows exactly what's about to happen and is decidedly not thrilled about it.

“Poor sad boy,” Flint says fondly. He goes over to help Silver with Junior, both of them holding on to the dog’s collar. It's something of a futile gesture, though, since he's bigger than they are and could break away easily enough. Once they've got him near the tub he starts shaking and whining, and Flint feels like an absolute monster as he removes Junior’s fine leather collar and urges him toward the tub.

“Come on, son. We'll be quick about it,” Silver says. He's shirtless as Flint expected him to be, and he's got his silver-streaked hair tied back in a no-nonsense bun. He looks downright alluring to Flint, but he tells himself to focus, wanting to get this over and done with.

Junior raises one front paw to step over the edge of the tub and into the water. As soon as his toes break the surface he starts...howling. Baying, really, low and mournful and blood-chilling. It's not unexpected, since he's done this every single time they've bathed him (even when he was only a pup with a hilariously squeaky howl), but that doesn't make it any easier to listen to.

“Our neighbors must think we're torturing the poor lad,” Flint says over the noise as he and Silver lean on Junior, muscling him the rest of the way into the tub.

“Every time we do this I'm impressed all over again by just how much he hates it,” Silver replies.

Flint picks up the soap and together they lather Junior up, both of them talking to him in soothing tones, not that he can hear them over his own cries of distress.

“I think he's--” Flint hears Silver start to say, but then Junior makes a break for it, leaping from the tub and shaking vigorously, showering them both with suds and water. He flees from the bathroom and lopes down the stairs, and Flint hears him running for the back door, which they've left propped open to help cool the house down after a hot day - foolish of them, Flint realizes now. Junior has probably already found something disgusting outside to roll in.

“...never mind,” Silver says with a resigned sigh. “He never ceases to amaze me. He'll gladly stick his head in the tub and drink the dirty water when you or I are bathing, but when the bath is for him, he won't get near it and runs off as soon as he can. It's like he knows.”

“He’s going to roll in something awful and be filthy for our wedding day, isn't he?” Flint asks. It's a foregone conclusion.

“Yes, I'm fairly certain he already has. I just hope it's not the leavings of another animal, or a carcass of something long dead like the last time,” Silver says, drying himself off with the towel they'd set aside for Junior. He holds it out to Flint when he's finished, and Flint takes it with a murmur of thanks, drying himself off in turn.

“We should bring him inside - or get him settled outside, if he rolled in something deceased - and get ourselves to bed. We have a big day tomorrow,” Flint says quietly, stepping close to Silver and looking down into his eyes, taking in his familiar, handsome face. “Mm. You look positively delectable right now, I'll have you know.”

“Save it for the wedding night,” Silver says, but then he's kissing Flint anyway, and Flint’s got his hands on Silver’s hips and his tongue in Silver’s mouth. “We really should go to bed,” Silver pants when they break apart.

“You go wait for me in bed, I'll handle the lad,” Flint says. He kisses Silver again, fleetingly, then leaves the bathroom and goes downstairs and outside to look for Junior. He finds him already asleep on the back porch, muddy and dusty but fortunately not smelling of death or worse. Flint decides to let sleeping dogs lie and quietly returns indoors, going upstairs to Silver.

“How is he?” Silver asks from his place in bed, his hair still tied up and his trousers and breeches on the floor. He's reclining on his pile of pillows, and Flint can't help noticing how good his tanned, tattooed skin looks against the stark white of their bedsheets.

“Asleep on the back porch. Apparently he wore himself out escaping from us,” Flint says, unbuttoning his trousers and letting them drop to the floor. He steps out of them and joins Silver in bed, settling in next to him with a quiet groan. “I don't think he rolled in anything too awful, fortunately. Just some dirt.”

“He can be such a huge brat,” Silver says, shuffling closer to rest his head on Flint’s chest. It's a bit warm out to be holding each other close, but Flint doesn't care. He puts an arm around Silver anyway and kisses the top of his head.

“He gets that from you,” Flint murmurs, and laughs when Silver pinches his arm in retaliation for that remark. “Go to sleep, you. Big day tomorrow,” he says with a yawn.

“I might be too excited to sleep,” Silver murmurs, but a few minutes later he's snoring regardless, his head pillowed on Flint’s chest and his hands up by his face.

Flint looks down at him in the darkness, admiring him, this exasperating old former pirate king who Flint has somehow made a quietly beautiful life with. The way Silver’s dark eyelashes are fanned over his cheeks is making him feel a little overwrought, so he closes his eyes and thinks idle, pleasant thoughts about books and magnolia blossoms and good strong black rum, and anything that isn't John Silver’s fucking eyelashes. 

He dreams of Silver, of course.

 

\---

 

Their wedding day dawns bright and cloudless, a good omen if ever Flint has seen one. He feels unaccountably jittery, his stomach doing flips and his heart racing a little. He's excited to marry Silver, even though it'll be just them and Junior, even though no one but those involved will know about it. Somehow that makes it all the more exciting.

He goes downstairs and finds Silver cooking and singing, a sweet little smile on his face. He's obviously had a bath that morning and is so caught up in his song he doesn't notice Flint standing there at first.

“Since James is as true as he's fair, my griefs I fling all to the wind. ‘Tis a pleasing return for my care, my husband is constant and kind,” Silver sings to himself as Flint leans against the doorframe, watching and listening. “I've done with the toils of the seas, ye sailors I'm bound to my love,” he finishes with a flourish, and only then does he look up and see Flint. “Oh. Hello,” he says, his ears turning pink where they're sticking out of his damp hair.

“Do you always change the words of your songs so they're about me and you?” Flint teases him, sauntering over to kiss him sweetly. “Don’t let me interrupt you, please.”

“I didn't mean for you to hear that one, your ego is big enough as it is,” Silver says, grinning playfully. His eagerness and anticipation make him look so young and sweet, Flint can't do anything but grin back. “Where do you want to have the ceremony? And when? I started making the pie already, before breakfast, and I went to the parlor and located our best bottle of wine in the liquor cabinet. It's a bit dusty and old but it should still be decent,” he says.

“On the back porch around sundown, I think,” Flint says. “We still have our ordinary things to do today before our big moment, after all,” he says, tucking Silver’s hair behind his ridiculous little ear. Lord help him, he loves those ears.

“Our big moment. Yes,” Silver says, looking up into Flint’s eyes. They just look at each other for a long moment, then Flint kisses him again before taking a seat at the table. 

After breakfast they get on with their day like it's nothing special, even though Flint has started to feel positively giddy and he thinks Silver feels similarly, if how he's acting is any indication. He's positively boisterous as he heads off to milk the goat and feed the chickens, whistling that same seafarers’ love song as he goes.

They get their chores done in short order that day, and in the early evening Silver makes supper for them both, smiling wide and sure at Flint like they share a grand secret. In a way, he knows, they do - they're about to get married and no one will be the wiser. It's exhilarating, even though a little part of Flint chafes at how long he's had to hide his love from the world at large. Not just Silver of course, but Thomas before him, too. He doesn't want to think too much about that right this minute though; he's about to get married and wants to focus solely on the ebullience he feels. He could almost forget how old he is, he feels so good.

Flint goes to take a bath after supper, giving Silver some time alone in their bedroom to get ready. They manage to avoid seeing each other until they're both ready, and Flint descends the spiral staircase to find Silver waiting for him in the front room, all kitted out in his finery. He's wearing his new coat Flint bought him a few months ago, his best trousers, and a clean white shirt shot through with little strands of golden thread. His hair is pulled half-back from his face, showing off the gleaming silver streaks shot through it, and if Flint isn't mistaken he's trimmed his impressive beard.

For his part, Flint has chosen a shirt that he knows Silver appreciates on him because the hue of it matches his eyes, paired with dark trousers and a long dramatic black coat that he had made in fond memory of one he'd owned years before. He has also trimmed his beard, but he's left his white hair loose because he knows Silver likes it that way.

“You look--”

“I can't believe--”

They both speak at once, then fall silent, and Flint chuckles almost nervously. “Well, shall we?” he asks, gesturing vaguely toward the back door of the kitchen. 

“We shall,” Silver says decisively, linking arms with Flint and walking him to the back porch. The air has begun to cool some as the sun sets, and Flint can hear the nocturnal insects buzzing and smell the sweet, heady scent of their peach trees on the night air. Junior stands from his usual post in the kitchen by the back door and stretches, yawning theatrically before plodding out on to the porch with his people. He's still a bit dusty from the day before, but at least he hasn't rolled in anything offensive.

Flint turns to face Silver once they're standing on the back porch together, taking both his hands in his own. “I’ll start, I suppose. Since we don't have anyone officiating I figure we'll just make it up as we go,” he says.

“Making it up as we go is something we're both very good at,” Silver agrees, shifting his weight from leg to crutch and back again like he does when he's feeling his nerves.

“Do you have a middle name, by the way? I'm just curious, for the vows,” Flint says, and he wonders how he's never gotten around to asking Silver that before.

“Not anymore,” Silver says, rolling his shoulders back. “Do you?”

“I do, it's Edward,” Flint says, then clears his throat. He looks down at their joined hands, then up into Silver’s sweet, bright blue eyes, and begins. “We are gathered here tonight in the sight of our sole witness, John James Flint Silver McGraw the second, to join ourselves in-- not _holy_ matrimony but something close to it, anyway. We make these vows to each other to express our love and fidelity, and to...shit, I had a whole speech prepared and now I can't remember it,” Flint says with a shaky laugh. “Moving on. Will you, John Silver, have this man to your wedded husband, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Will you love me, comfort me, honor and keep me, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep thee only to me, as long as we both shall live?”

“I will,” Silver says, and Flint can hear that he's choked up, see the tears standing in his eyes. He's keeping himself together admirably, considering, Flint thinks fondly. “Will you, James Edward McGraw, have this man to your wedded husband, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Will you love me, comfort me, honor and keep me, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep thee only to me, as long as we both shall live?”

“I will,” Flint says. He lets go of Silver’s hands briefly, rummaging in his pocket and producing a ring - a surprise he'd planned for Silver. It's one he used to wear years ago, gold with a thick band and an intricate round seal on the top. He's been holding on to it for a very long time, and wasn't quite sure why until Silver gave him a ring. Since then he's been thinking of giving this one to him in return, a piece of himself and his past that he knows Silver will appreciate the significance of. He takes Silver’s left hand and puts the ring on him, rushing through the rest of his speech as he does. He can't look at Silver while he talks or he knows he'll be too emotional to continue. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. Amen.”

“What we have joined together ourselves in the sight of our dog, let no man rend asunder,” Silver says, and a sudden flash of lightning in the distance startles them both. Thunder roars and then a downpour starts as they grab hold of each other, kissing with all the passion of the torrential storm they've found themselves in. When they break apart they're both laughing and crying, overcome.

“We should go inside,” Flint says in Silver’s ear over another crash of thunder, though he finds he doesn't want to move, storm be damned. They're both already soaked to the skin, but it doesn't matter. Flint clings to Silver, burying his head in his shoulder, feeling warm rain and tears both running down his face.

“I love you,” Silver says hoarsely in reply, his arms tight around Flint, holding him close. Flint feels him shaking and knows it isn't the rain, it's the sheer emotion of it all - he feels it too.

“I love you, too,” Flint says into the fabric of Silver’s rain-drenched coat. Junior has already fled inside to get out of the rain, clever dog, and they follow him in without letting go of each other.

Silver shuts the door and leans back against it, still holding Flint tenderly. Flint leans on him in turn, nuzzling into his hair and trying to catch his breath. “I can't believe you surprised me with your ring like that,” Silver is saying, panting. “I'm an old man, I could've died from the shock.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Flint says with no small amount of affection, finally pulling back and looking down into Silver’s eyes, reaching out to brush a tear or a raindrop off his cheek with his thumb. “I suppose I am, too. We can be ridiculous together.”

“As long as we both shall live,” Silver agrees solemnly. His face breaks into a huge grin and then he's embracing Flint again, pulling him in and clinging tight to him. “How in the world did I convince you to marry me? I certainly married up,” he breathes in Flint’s ear.

“Hush. Look at you, John - if anyone married up, it's me,” Flint says into his mass of soaked, dark curls. He takes a few moments to just breathe Silver in and hold him, letting himself feel the waves of overpowering love crash into him as he thinks about how lucky they are to have found each other again after so many years. How lucky he is, really, that Silver found him. He clears his throat, leaning back so he can look Silver in the eye. “Now, I think the right thing to do is get out of these wet clothes, wouldn't you agree?” 

“A plan that gets you naked is something I'll certainly agree to, always,” Silver says, grinning at him cheekily. He pushes Flint’s sodden coat off his shoulders and shrugs out of his own, then he's taking Flint by the hand and leading him to the staircase. Flint pauses there to pull Silver’s shirt off over his head, peeling it away from his damp skin. Silver returns the favor, wrangling Flint’s shirt off him and then taking his hand again, squeezing it gently as he leads Flint up the stairs.

They make their way to the bedroom, and Flint feels desire warming the pit of his belly as Silver gracelessly fights his way out of the rest of his wet clothing. Only he could look so delicious doing that. Once they've both managed to get undressed, Flint takes Silver in his arms and sweeps him off his feet (well, foot) and into bed. Silver yelps in delighted surprise and Flint climbs into the big bed with him, grinning down at him.

“Hello,” Flint purrs, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Silver and looking down his body, taking in the perfectly imperfect beauty of him.

“Good evening,” Silver says in reply, a smile on his face. “Husband,” he adds, then bites his bottom lip as though to keep himself from grinning too wide.

Flint feels his heart beating faster at just how wonderful Silver looks in that moment, then reminds himself sternly that they are both grown men - old men - and he is certainly not about to become giddy over Silver smiling at him and calling him ‘husband.’ Not at all.

He distracts himself from his saccharine thoughts and grabs the vial of oil off the nightstand, settling himself on the bed between Silver’s thighs and pulling the cork from the little vial. It feels curiously similar to the first time they did this, to Flint - the eager anticipation is the same, although admittedly neither of them is in quite as much of an all-fired rush now as they were their first time. The almost frightening amount of love he feels for Silver is the same, too, if not even more deeply felt and profound now that they've been together for several years. He pours some of the oil out over his fingers and leans down to kiss Silver slowly, exploring his mouth with his tongue as he eases his fingers inside him.

“James,” Silver sighs against his lips, then tilts his head back and closes his eyes. Flint admires the long line of his throat as he works him open, wanting to take his time and commit every detail to memory - it is their wedding night, after all. 

Once he's certain Silver is ready for him, he pulls his fingers out and slicks himself with more oil, then grasps Silver by the hips and pushes into him in one motion.

“Oh,” Silver gasps softly, his eyes opening, gaze finding Flint’s and staying there.

Flint doesn't break eye contact with him for a long moment as he starts rolling his hips, thrusting deep into him and feeling pleasure race up through his body as his cock is enveloped in that tight slick heat.

“John,” he sighs, and it feels like a prayer of thanks. He rests his head on Silver’s shoulder and folds him in his arms, holding tight to him as their bodies push and pull and press together, the euphoria of it all singing in Flint’s veins, sparking in the base of his spine. Their skin is still cool and damp from the rainwater, but he barely notices, too focused on Silver and the ecstasy they're creating together.

He raises his head to look down at Silver, and to his surprise he sees more tears rolling down his face. But his eyes are wide and clear, nothing but love shining out at Flint as they look at each other in wonder.

“Are you all right?” Flint asks breathlessly, though he's certain those aren't tears of sadness or pain.

“Yes,” Silver says with a hiccuping laugh, running the fingers of his left hand through Flint’s hair and positively beaming up at him. He shifts and Flint feels Silver’s leg wrapping around his waist, pulling him in and urging him on faster. “That’s it, darling,” Silver murmurs, his voice breaking, and Flint buries his face in his neck and groans.

He keeps Silver held fast in a tight embrace as he thrusts harder, trying in vain to get even deeper inside him, his heart pounding like to burst out of his chest. He's overcome with adoration for Silver, his own fresh tears stinging his eyes now as he gets closer and closer to climax.

He works a hand in between them, wanting Silver to come when he does. It's a rare thing when they finish at precisely the same time, but Flint _needs_ it to happen here, now, tonight. He can hear Silver’s breathy whimpers and feel his body starting to tense, and he knows deep in his bones that it's going to happen; then it _is_ happening, and it's everything. He spends himself inside Silver with a wracking sob and feels Silver go off between their bodies at the same time, his seed a wet heat branding them both.

For a long time they lie in stillness and silence, both of them catching their breath. Flint is only somewhat surprised to feel the tears running down his face, and when he pulls out of Silver with a quiet noise of loss and sits up to look down at him, he doesn't try to hide that he's been crying.

“You too, mm?” Silver rumbles, his voice hoarse. He reaches up to brush Flint’s tears away and Flint turns his head, pressing a sweet kiss to Silver’s palm.

“Weddings do tend to have that effect on me,” Flint says with a deep sigh of satisfaction. He stretches out next to Silver and is about to roll over and embrace him when Silver suddenly gets up and out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“Just downstairs for something. I'll be right back,” Silver says, then grabs his crutch and leaves the room. He returns a few minutes later with a dusty old bottle of wine - their best bottle, Flint realizes - and two glasses. “We can always have the pie for breakfast tomorrow, but I wanted to open this tonight,” Silver explains. He hands the glasses to Flint and fights with the cork in the wine bottle, his face scrunching up into a ridiculously cute grimace. No old pirate with a gold tooth and so many gray hairs should be allowed to be that cute, Flint thinks fondly. Finally Silver gets the cork out and carefully pours them each some of the deep, dark reddish-brown wine. He sets the bottle on the nightstand and readily accepts the glass Flint holds out to him.

“Cheers,” Flint says softly, clinking his glass against Silver’s. He takes a sip of the wine and almost immediately regrets it. It's thick and syrupy on his tongue, cloyingly sweet. It burns his throat and makes him cough. “That...has gone off,” he says when he can speak, watching Silver’s expression change from curiosity to disgust as he tastes it.

“Oh good lord, it's like port but terrible,” Silver sputters after he swallows. “Well. That’s enough of that, I think,” he says, putting his glass on the nightstand. He relieves Flint of his glass as well, and they lie down next to each other, pressing close despite the warmth of the room.

“Do you like your ring?” Flint asks him quietly after a moment, reaching over to take Silver’s left hand and admire how the gold shines against his tan skin.

“I do, very much,” Silver says in a voice that's little more than a whisper. “I recognize it as one of Captain Flint’s.”

“I thought it fitting to give you a piece of him,” Flint says, rolling on to his side and looking down into Silver’s sleepy, smiling blue eyes. “You’ve always had a piece of him, really. I was in love with you long before I could admit as much to myself.”

“And I, you,” Silver says simply, reaching out to brush Flint’s hair from his eyes. “But look at us here tonight, sharing a bed, joined together in matrimony. You’ll never be rid of me now,” he teases him. He pulls Flint close and kisses him, lacing their fingers together.

“Horrors,” Flint whispers when he pulls back, feeling such fondness and love for Silver he can barely stand himself. “I’ve an old pirate king for a husband.”

Silver laughs from deep down in his belly, and Flint feels it in his own body, too. “It’s too late to back out now, my dear, we've already consummated the marriage,” Silver points out with a smug grin.

“Well, I did say ‘with my body I thee worship’ in my vows to you, and I intend to continue to do so as often as you'll have me,” Flint murmurs. He rests his head on Silver’s chest and gradually drifts off there, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of Silver’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT WAS. I’ve been plotting it out for a while in a vague sort of way, then I sat down to write it and it was - intense. I wrote it in basically like a day and I managed not to spill the beans to anyone about it. Not the important beans, anyway.
> 
> Their vows were taken from the 1559 Anglican Book of Common Prayer that I found online, adapted a bit to make them not sound quite so stilted and religious (and to take out the part about obeying because lol). But ‘with my body I thee worship’ really is in there, I didn’t make that part up. So is ‘until death [...] depart’ which I like better than ‘do part’ anyway.
> 
> Title and lyrics borrowed from “Sigh No More” by Mumford & Sons, go listen to that if you feel like you need a good cry. 
> 
> I need a nap now. Love to you all! <3


End file.
